And I swear next Christmas Eve I will not drink so much! It was my fourth Christmas Eve of drunkenness, only the previous three years Santa had conveniently taken my hangover from me whilst delivering presents, packing it into his sleigh never to be seen again. It didn't happen this year and it wasn't until about four in the afternoon that I began to feel vaguely human again.

Christmas day itself was great though. Once I'd forced myself to properly get up it began with my brother and I having a very silly competition whereby we attempted to guess what each of the presents in our stocking was before opening them (and both having a success rate of about 90%). We all then went to my gran's with my mum's side of the family. It was good until my two cousins, my brother and I were forced into playing a chocolate version of Russian Roulette. Eleven delicious chocolates filled with praline and one filled with chilli. Guess who got the chilli chocolate? ME! I nearly threw up, not because of the chilli-flavoured chocolate, but because I downed three glasses of water afterwards. This was on top of a gigantic Christmas dinner. My poor stomach enlarged to the size of a space hopper and I felt sick beyond belief, but luckily that was as far as it went.

I've spent the past two days at my dad's. My brother and I dressed up our half-sibling with an iPod and a bottle of beer and took a photo of him, which was rather amusing. I love my little half-brother very much, but small children...what are you meant to DO with them? He's seven months old and can't talk. When I was left alone with him and he cried I just waggled a toy in his face and hoped for the best. He has fantastic toys though. I made a giant tower out of his Duplo and had more fun than a 20-year-old should probably have playing with big Lego bricks. I'm sure my mental age will catch up with me one day, though I must say I have far more fun with it trailing far behind.

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